i don't wear nearly enough flannel

Or wool. Or leather. Or motorcycle boots. I'm also not a middle aged Woo Girl. Or a middle aged man with curly white hair or a beard. And I also don't smell like patchouli. I can not stand Widespread Panic. And I listen to no country music aside from the classics of Johnny, Willie, and Patsy. (Unless you consider Wilco, Whiskeytown, and the like country. Which my Toby Keith Nascar loving co-worker told me is most decidedly not country.)

Music I do like - I have an appreciation for the classic rock. I like good songwriters. I listen to a fair amount of punk. Indie rock is probably wear I lurk most often. And I went through a definite phase in life where lo-fi was the "most awesome fucking sound ever."

I also love hoodies and cardigans. I wear batman t-shirts and jeans. And pretty much live in one of the five pair of chucks I own. (work is clearly a different story - there it's skirts and heels and frill - out of work it's the same outfit I've been wearing the past 15 years.)

And this all brings me to seeing Todd Snider tonight. First, the show was in Northampton. And that sets a tone for everything. It makes me nostalgic for the days I lived there.

I lived on the second floor of this building. There was a dog called Artemis usually tied up outside the building. He ran away often and while he belonged to my neighbor, I often got called about the missing dog.

So once the wave of nostalgia passes, I head down to the Iron Horse - which is still my favorite place to see a show. I remember my first show there was Mary Lou Lord. She sang Indie Rock Boy. It made me smile. Back then I wore my blue Chucks or silver Docs and wore my hair red and lived in jeans and a hoodie. At that time those were socially acceptable for my organizing job.

Tonight we walked and scoped out a decent place to stand in the back. I have no idea who opened. I have no idea what she sang aside from the time she said the name Gram Parsons and I perked up hoping for Las Vegas or Streets of Baltimore. But, then Todd walked up the stairs and started his set.


There was lots of hootin and hollerin. And woos. My good the woos. I clapped and cheered and sang along with my favorites. But the woos and the hoots and the hollers were insane. And at that point I took stop of my surroundings and I realized how much I did not really fit in with this crowd. Sure, there were a handful of folks who were similar to me, but the majority were... well. They were the guy in front of me. He wore jeans and a denim shirt and a leather cap. Yes, cap. He also randomly started tried to beat out a rhythm on the table or the wall post next to him. But poorly. So, picture that guy times a couple 100 and then me.

But no matter, I laughed. I had a great time. I have said it before and I will say it forever I could listen to Todd Snider tell me stories everyday. He weaves a tale like few I know and I love it. He managed to make me laugh out loud with a story I've heard repeatedly on his live album, get a little sad remembering someone during "Lonely Girl," give out my own woot of enjoyment during "Conservative Christian" and then get the audience to laugh during a song about attempted suicide with "Sunshine."


It was a good way to end a day that had me angry about work, my lack of money, stupid drama and my own overreactions to things. I don't quite remember what I was angry about.


And in case you forgot yesterday was Dr. Seuss's birthday.




And

I see Firefly Salon and I immediately think of Captain Malcolm Reynolds. Some people think insects.

And lastly,

They were just sitting there. Waiting.

So what did I learn tonight - Todd Snider appeals to one of the most random demographics ever. I prefer driving down route 10 on my way home from Northampton (unless it's behind the dude going 25 mph...) And I miss my camera. Must use the baby more. And I am so totally chickenshit.

I